


A Conjoined Christmas

by Meowsapow



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anyways yeah, Christmas, Fluff and Humor, How Do I Tag, How do I write fanficion, I wrote this at gunpoint, M/M, Save Me, how to WRITE?, implied relationships too, merry christmas!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 05:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13206909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowsapow/pseuds/Meowsapow
Summary: Hey, this is a gift for mawichandoodles on Tumblr, who does really amazing art (I mean y'all need to check this out). This is a fic about Alfred and Ivan being "stuck" together in a astronomy contest, having to work together to win a cash prize. A pretty short and fluffy story, just in time to be late for Christmas :")





	A Conjoined Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the school  
Sleep deprived students were covered in drool  
They struggled with grades they hoped to amend  
While celebrating the break they’d have at year’s end

The Geology club met Wednesdays after class. Not once had there been a postpone, but when Alfred reached the door he found it locked. Instead of the usual open door, there was a large sign that read “Mr. Hutton Room 315”. He grimaced and marched upstairs, wanting to collapse under the weight of the specimens he carried in his bag. Thankfully the door was just at the top of the stairs, and someone opened it for him. Unfortunately, his face was used as the door stop. 

“Дерьмо,” Ivan cursed, then grinned. “Oh, hey Alfred.”

“Hey,” Alfred warned, rubbing his forehead. “I know you just cursed. That’s 5 bucks for the swear jar numbnuts.” He pulled out a small mason jar that had been painted with pink glitter. He held it out and rattled it expectantly; his resemblance to an orphan in a Dickens book uncanny.

“Alfred, I’m afraid it’s hard to take your bet seriously when you sound like a 12 year old girl.” Ivan chided, picking up Alfred’s bag. He squinted at him as he handed it over. “What the hell are you keeping in this thing? Bricks?” Alfred scoffed, carefully slinging it over his shoulder.

“It’s actually a achondrite that originated from the moon.” 

“Soooo… space bricks?”

“...Shut up.”

They entered the classroom and Alfred found not only Mr. Hutton was there, but his eccentric science teacher Mrs. Rubin was there as well. Ivan sat in front of her smiled pleasantly, while Alfred sat as far away from them as he could. While only being at the boarding school for two years, he managed to somehow set his table on fire twice in her class. And that wasn’t accounting for the numerous broken desks, melted binders, and stabbed fingers he had caused. She had acted good natured about the accidents, but he swore that she was the one who snitched him out to Principal T for pasting his 70’s grad photos around the school.

Matthew sat next to Alfred, giving him a pained smile. Alfred gave him a startled look. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at the yearbook meeting?” He muttered. 

“Not this time,” he sighed. “They want me to take pictures of your guys’ club.” He said, holding up a camera. “The big me-”

“Alright KIDDOS,” Mrs. Rubin shouted. Everyone stopped mid-sentence, and she grinned wildly. “Let’s get DOWN to BUSINESS.” She perched upon the desk, Mr. Hutton leaning uncomfortably next to her. She pulled him closer, her graying perm obscuring his face. Mattie took the chance to snap a quick shot of them, and she began.

“This year, we’re going to do something special guys. Do you know what’s happening this Christmas?” There was a lack of reply, and Mr. Hutton jumped in.

“We’re starting a temporary club in celebration of this year’s meteor shower!” He exclaimed happily, and a few people clapped. Alfred stared blankly at the teachers. What did Ivan’s gardening club have to do with cool-ass space rocks?

“But Mrs. Rubin,” Ivan blurted. “What does that have to do with our Botany club?”

With a wild gleam in her eye, she leapt from the desk and retrieved a large rock from a bag by her feet. “Two words kids,” she said with a grin. “Space trees.” Everyone looked around skeptically as she lifted the rock, which was roughly the size of a half a basketball, as if the biology class had used it as a dissection specimen.

“Behold!” She announced. “A fossil, fit for a king!” And, Alfred realized it was. There seemed to be a faint impression of what looked like a fern leaf on the rock. He doubted its authenticity, but he would have hated to crush his teacher’s dreams. Mr. Hutton smiled weakly and stepped forward, addressing the class in a less aggressive tone.

“We’ll be following the shower over the next few weeks, and host a Christmas viewing party at its climax on Christmas night.” People seemed uninterested in what he had to say, and began to pack their things. Mrs. Rubin slid forward and added nonchalantly,

“Of course, the less people participating, the more of a chance there is to win the contest.” Everybody perked up, leaning in attentively to what she had to say. She gave another fantastic grin as she saw the effect of her words, and continued. “Oh yeah, a stellar prize guys. I’m talking big bucks for whoever takes the best footage of the shower.” Alfred’s eyes widened, knowing exactly where to find a camera guy. He turned to his brother, but found that Mattie was already muttering to the Dutch kid next to him. Both looked expressionless, but Alfred already knew that his brother was taken(hopefully in only one sense of the word). The only other person he knew with a good camera was Francis, but he had already left on the cosmetology trip. He withered in his seat as Mrs. Rubin continued.

“For those of you who don’t have access to technology, we’ve decided to make the executive decision,”

“You’ve made the executive decision,” Mr. Hutton interjected bitterly.

“To make another contest to allow you and a partner to win... a camera!” She said, game host style. Mr Rubin jumped in to correct her. 

“Well, it won’t be your camera. It’ll be school loaned, and you’ll have to share with your partner. You’ll be given a week to take the photos, and have to upload them yourself.” Mrs. Rubin nodded politely, and someone in the front row raised her hand. 

“Yes, Michelle?” Mrs. Rubin asked. Michelle (or ‘Chelles as Alfred called her), asked suspiciously,

“What exactly is this contest?” 

Twenty minutes and thirteen triple-x sized ugly sweaters later, students squeezed out of the door in pairs. It looked like a ugly christmas rendition of Noah’s ark. Alfred found himself attached to an extremely disgruntled Ivan, who resorted to carrying Alfred on his back. Alfred glared at Matthew, who was trying to keep up with his sweater buddy, Ned. Ivan noticed this, and frowned. “Don’t you guys already have a camera?” He asked.

“Yeah, but Ned here wanted to have another!” Matthew said cheerfully. Ivan and Alfred looked quizzically at Ned, who just shrugged.

“If there’s not camera, there’s no competition for us,” he said nonchalantly. He walked away, dragging Matthew along behind him. The two of them got to the stairs and Matthew picked Ned up, leaving Ivan and Alfred alone in the hallway.

“This bones,” Alfred groaned as Ivan carried him down the hallway. “How are we gonna like, eat or pee with this thing on?”

“I think it’s probably an exception,” Ivan mused. “I just hope that everyone else fails before tonight so I can sleep in my own bed.”

“Wait, you mean… we’d have to sleep together?!” Alfred gasped. He fell off of Ivan’s back, causing Ivan to fall on top of him. They squiggled around and wrestled to be on top when they were interrupted by Michelle and her partner…

“Gilbert?” Alfred said, shocked that he was still at the school. “Didn’t you get expelled for the firecrackers?”  
“No no no,” Ivan corrected. “It was the hot pepper pudding. Or maybe the mustard seed boxers”

“No, it was definitely th-”

“Guys,” Michelle interrupted. “ It doesn’t really matter, cause he’s here.” She looked down at them, tangled up in their now dusty sweater, and sighed. “Hopefully you won’t have to pay for that.”

“Don’t worry,” Gilbert consoled. “You can pretty much get an ugly sweater for cheap anywhere nowadays!”

“Yeah, like Alfred’s closet,” Ivan added slyly, and Alfred punched him in the arm.

“I wouldn’t be running your big fat mouth,” Alfred warned. “I’m the one you’ll be attached to for the next few days.”

Gilbert and Michelle laughed, helping the boys to their feet. The sweater seemed to stretch back into place nicely, leaving the colours fresh and bold. On the front, “Space Rocks!” was written in mustard-gold over Ivan’s chest. The rest was a cherry red wool, which was reversed on Alfred’s half. “Christmas is Growing On Me ” was spelt in a neat cursive, and it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Dinner that night was terrible. Alfred’s 100 piece McNugget meal was eaten with his left elbow stuck as far into Ivan’s ribcage as possible, leaving the two to bicker. Matthew and Ned sat across from them, at Alfred’s insistence. Hopefully it would look a bit less strange if there was more than one conjoined Christmas freak.

“Why don’t you just switch sides so he stops elbowing you?” Ned asked, looking deeply unimpressed. The two froze mid sentence, jaws hanging loosely.

“Hey, that’s pretty good!” Matthew said cheerfully. Alfred rolled his eyes at him.

“If y’all didn’t realize, this dork is right handed. I’d be the one getting stabbed then.” There was a pause, then Ivan slowly rolled the word on his tongue, as if getting a taste for it. He turned to Alfred, exasperated.

“Y’all?” He snorted, punching Alfred on the arm. Matthew choked and even Ned broke a smile. He had to hold Mattie up as he clutched his stomach, lost in a fit of giggles. Ned simply raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t laugh at him, you do it too.” Ivan’s jaw dropped and he started guffawing. Alfred eyed Ned, and Mattie wilted.

“I do not,” he objected. Alfred felt the need to stick up for his brother.

“Ya don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stated, waving off Ivan. There was a moment of silence where Ivan grew a malevolent grin, and with a sneer he replied:

“Don’t you mean, ‘Y’ont’?” 

They were kicked from the McDonalds after they wrestled off the stools. Ivan had a large red mark on his arm from where Alfred punched him, and Matthew looked embarrassed to be kicked out. The two pairs said goodnight to each other once they got to the shared dorm rooms. Ivan paused at the door.

“Hey, wait,” he stopped Alfred, who rolled his eyes. “My dorm room is over there.”

“Well,” Alfred stated impatiently. “There is no way in hell that I’m sharing a room with Mr. Tea and Crumpets, so you get to bunk in my room.” He threw open the door and marched in. “There’s no one else here, since Francis is go-”

“Salut Alfred!” Francis shouted. He was underneath a pile of ornate pillows in the corner, his legs barely visible. He popped out and hit his head on the table where he kept his sewing machine, causing a box of yarn to fall on his head.

“Oooo, am I hallucinating, or iz there two of you?” He smiled weakly. Alfred rolled his eyes and dragged Ivan to his half, which was covered in numerous posters of music icons. Beneath his large Green Day poster was his unmade bed, which resembled a nest more than anything. Ivan stopped and stared at the frame, his jaw hitting the floor.

“Is… Is that-?!” He began, but Alfred put his hand up.

“Yes, my bed is a race car. Can we get over it?” Alfred groaned. And indeed it was. A silver porsche made the bed frame of his bed. The “hood” of the car had 130 written in bold script, making it the coolest bed Ivan had ever seen.

“Lameee,” Ivan lied through gritted teeth. Alfred looked hurt at this, but Francis took the moment to intrude, sliding over in fuzzy socks.

“‘onestly, it izn’t that bad,” He consoled. “Especially since I helped with the decor. He wanted to make it some generic car. But if you're going to do something stupid, it better be memorable.” He plopped down on the bed and grandly gestured towards the hood. “May I present to you… James Dean’s Little Bastard!”

Ivan looked extremely lost, and Alfred patted him on the back. “Dude, we really need to get you caught up on 50’s culture.”

A few minutes later, Ivan and Alfred were stuck listening to every detail of Francis’ trip. And by every detail, he meant every. Ivan always lost as to how the street names were important to the story, as he knew nothing of New York, so he found his eyes wandering around the room. It was astounding how the two sides were so different from each other. On Alfred's side was every American actor, singer, or dancer since what seemed like the 40’s. It didn't seemed to be arranged in any order, so Marilyn Manson was hanging next to Marilyn Monroe in the corner, while a Thrasher poster was slightly overlapping the border of Frank Sinatra. Even his desk had photographs and memorabilia strewn across it; the most ornate being a large picture of Obama covered in tears. The frame was engraved carefully, stating “You will be missed”.

Francis’ side of the room looked right out of a designer magazine. It was sleek and modern: the loft bed allowing room for furniture underneath. Everything was a dark shade of metallic grey, with lime accenting. That side of the room smelled too strongly of new money for Ivan’s taste. He sneezed.

“Oh, dude. You nasty,” Alfred laughed, pushing him over. Forgetting that they were attached, he was pulled on top Ivan. Alfred looked embarrassed, but Ivan made smooching sounds. His lips brushed Alfred cheek and they both laughed. “No homo,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Ivan mock pouted at him.

“Not even a little bit?” he asked, fluttering his eyes. Francis laughed and threw a pillow at them.

“Get a room you two.” Alfred turned red, and pushed off of Ivan. 

“I'm tired,” he announced energetically, and rolled into the bed. Ivan shrugged at Francis and followed him to bed. They both lay there for hours, too nervous and excited to fall asleep. Eventually, they both passed out; the combined snoring so loud Francis had to spend the night in Ivan’s room with Arthur.

The next morning was a awkward and sweaty tangle of limbs and fabric. The sweater had them in a deathgrip, and they had to roll out of the bed to untangle themselves. They strolled down to the lobby an hour later, looking two halves of a whole mess.

“Hey you two!” Mr. Hutton greeted the boys. Mrs. Rubin’s eyes widened as she walked towards them.

“Did… did you boys sleep like that?” She asked, awestruck. Ivan and Alfred nodded, extremely confused. She let out a hearty laugh and clapped Mr. Hutton on the back, causing to spit out his coffee. 

“That's FANTASTIC!” She wheezed. Holding her stomach, she began to hyperventilate. Mr. Hutton seemed only mildly worried, but he ignored her. By now, he had gotten used to his colleague's erratic behaviour.

“Uhhhh, we weren't really expecting you to… sleep like that,” he said sheepishly. Alfred and Ivan exchanged looks, turning redder by the second. Mrs. Rubin looked up at the boys, wiping a tear off of her cheek. She grinned.

“Well, I guess that does it. You can pick up the camera at lunch boys.” Alfred looked displeased.

“Wait wait wait,” he ran his fingers through his hair. “You mean we won? Just like that?! What about the other contestants?” 

“Well…” Mrs. Rubin looked to the side, as if avoiding the question. Almost as if on cue, yelling came from down the hall. Gilbert and Michelle were facing each other, arguing. She threw the sweater at his face and stormed off.

“You get the idea,” she concluded. Handing them a messily written note, she gave them a thumbs up. Alfred opened the note as the teachers walked away, presumably to do teacherly things.

“Man I can't even read this!” He exclaimed, passing it to Ivan. Ivan nodded, trying to decipher the writing. To put it into perspective, it looked as if a Latin chicken had gotten a medical degree and written a drunken note while using its beak. He folded the note and hastily put it in his pocket.

They got the camera later that day. The secretary took the note without batting an eye, leaving Alfred wondering how many drunken notes she had received in her lifetime. In return, they were presented a black felt satchel, which felt like it had space bricks in it. Ivan fumbled with it.

“ Hey, careful,” She hissed, eyeing him beadily. She made the point of handing it to Alfred, who just happened to be even more of a klutz.

“Thanks man!” Alfred gave her a thumbs up. Ivan muttered an apology and they went back to the bedroom. They “borrowed” Francis’ tripod and went out to the room's balcony, where Alfred stored his bike and a small barbeque, and well Francis…

“Armour?!” Ivan was awestruck. He traced his fingers along the breastplate, and eyed the longsword that was hung next to it. 

“Yeah, pretty cool, I know.” Alfred leaned against the railing, drinking a Capri Sun. He looked like an low-budget, underage greaser. Ivan felt his face flush, and he turned his attention back to the armour. As far as he could tell, this was either real, or a near exact replica. Francis must have secretly been a devout LARPer.

Alfred set to working on setting up the camera. He angled it to have a wide view of the sky, and attached it to his laptop. Setting it on the outdoor coffee table, they would be able to view the footage from the comfort of five feet away. Alfred bent over the table to plug a wire in, and was jabbed from behind.

“AHHh? Okay, uh, is that a sword or are you just happy to see me?” He gave an embarrassed smile. Ivan posed with the sword and gave him what would be a dazzling smile, if he didn't look like such a dork.

Laughing, he threw a pillow at Ivan, who clumsily deflected it with the sword. “Go take a shower or whatever, numbnuts. We’re gonna be stargazing tonight at nineteen-hundred hours sharp.”

Ivan showed up fifteen minutes late. Alfred couldn’t really be mad, since Ivan came with Starbucks. Alfred brought out his junk food stash, and they played cards on the balcony while stuffing their faces. Francis popped his head around the corner, and grabbed some chips. 

“Poker?” He asked hopefully.

“Go Fish,” Alfred replied through a mouthful of crackers. He shuffled through his hand. “Got any threes?”

Francis wrinkled his nose. “You guys are no fun,” he pouted. Alfred rolled his eyes at his as he took the chip bag back.

“If you're bored, why don’t you go hang out with angleterre? Good ol’ eyebrows must be missing you by now.” Francis didn’t say anything, but if looks could kill Alfred would suffer intense heartburn and nausea. He marched off, filled with indignation, presumably leaving to go tell Arthur about how undignified he was made to feel. Ivan scoffed.

“Got any kings?”

About an hour later, the sky was dark enough to see the shower. They gazed over the forest at the sky, now ablaze with light. Ivan glanced over at Alfred, who looked like a giddy four year old on Christmas day. “Hey Alfred,” he looked over at Ivan, who started to laugh. “Don’t you, lov- Don’t you love... When-” he began to wheeze, pointing up at the sky. “Lit.”

Alfred rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Alright, I’m the dork? I may not have a cool bed but at least my jokes aren’t outdated.” 

Ivan looked down at is hands, feeling ashamed. “I didn’t mean to insult your bed.” He muttered softly. “I… I actually think it’s kind of cool.” Alfred gasped, and whipped out his phone. Pointing it at Ivan, he asked: “So lemme get this straight: you’re apologizing? To me?!” 

Ivan grabbed the phone and hid it behind his back. “Uhhhh, no Englas,” he said, muffled by his scarf. Alfred lunged at him, unable to reach the phone.

“Come on you phony, I know you speak English!” He tried rolling Ivan over, but his arm got stuck underneath him. Defeated, Alfred lay on top of him. “Fine!” He replied stubbornly. “If you’re not gonna move, then neither am I!” Ivan hummed happily, and wrapped his arms around Alfred, who gave a small gasp of realization.

“This is fine,” He finally said, and Ivan gave him a small peck on the cheek as they watched the meteors far above. Ivan traced his fingers along Alfred’s stomach, which had gained a few pounds from eating three bags of chips and a box of Poptarts. “I love you,” he whispered into Alfred’s ear, but he was already asleep. This was going to be a problem, because Ivan already needed to get up to pee. Hopefully he would wake up soon. Ivan was getting really lonely and he couldn’t reach the chips. H began to feel extremely bitter and disgruntled, and had half a mind to throw Alfred off the balcony. He was too cute to throw off, but still.

**Author's Note:**

> When they woke up, they realized that the camera actually hadn't been recording. Whoops, I guess it would be better luck next year. Anyways, who needed $1000 when you had a boyfriend?
> 
> At that point: probably the boyfriend.
> 
> Happy holidays y'all. Peace


End file.
